


Soulgosbord in the making

by Congar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 22:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20665163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Congar/pseuds/Congar
Summary: It's time for Sunday dinner at the Spider Household. Only a human around to make it though, and not only for the Spider Household. It's time for celebration! The entire street is invited! With dishes prepared in the image of each of the residents. A wide array of tastes and textures.A soulgosbord.





	Soulgosbord in the making

“Muffin, if you jump up on the table where I have spent the last hour preparing, accidentally cutting myself, and then another hour preparing again, I will make sure to use the steel brush next time I bathe you. You have a chance for me not to notice that you’ve gotten spider cake between your scales which Muffet would be very interested in knowing about.”

The hushed shadow moved with even more hushed steps across the cement floor of the setting-sun-bathed patio. It laid heavy on the red, conjured tail which raised tensed as a barrier. It did very little to stop the shadow from melting its long head with the table’s darkly cast form.

“Aofett and Muffil won’t be able to save you if you choose this path.”

The warning, bitter, hefty, and packed with more meaning than had ever been collected by neither human or monster, didn’t nothing to faze the shadow from first tightening up, only to spring up and lift itself up on the wide table decorated with meals a plenty identical in how varied they were compared to the other. 

Were.

As the table folded in its middle due to the weight crashing down on it with more energy than would be allowed from gravity alone, Aofil jumped back not only due to the blatant divergence from an elemental force they’ve felt acting upon them their entire life, but also due to the sound of destroyed porcelain and glass cutting their ears. They avoided just in time not to also be cut physically though. A few shards managed their way through their tail extended rigidly behind them to catch their balance, and their sharp entry sent an equally sharp shiver up their spine. “Muffin!” they began through sheer reflex, only to have their angrily contorted face soften for a second before contorting into a confused expression that hid their aged wrinkles among many others. 

The table terrorist trivially tip-turned towards the terrified tutor that trembled top-to-toe through their twitching tail.

“You’re not Muffin,” Aofil says with a tug of their furrow that lowers while they stand themselves up on just their legs. Their tail’s red color turns a bit more subdued and almost blends in with the sunset as they relax their weight on it and approach their again-ruined camping table which evidently couldn’t hold enough weight as they thought it could. With their monster index finger they bounce-point while shaking their head. “You’re...”

Their finger falls down as their eyes widen in recognition. No… It can’t be!

It’s that white dog!

“You!” Aofil piques in surprise, their voice going through tones its not able to do graciously. After a cough or two the ends of their lips fall towards their chin. “You...” they now mutter with borderline disgust.

The small, white dog with small, not-white legs tugs it head to the side, its ears flopping over to expose its soft inner. A petite tongue plops out of its mouth, which begins patting in rhythm to its excited tail wagging behind it. Aofil can see what its small tail was hiding in the reflection of their kitchen window behind it, and they again shake their head. 

The gesture summons a rather peculiar reaction from the dog, who takes a step forward into a snail pudding which gets painted across the pink anime-canvas that is the cookie next to the snail pudding. One would call it a work of art in how the chocolate and snail both twists and complements the MewMew smile glazed upon the cookie.

Not Aofil though.

They call it extremely annoying.

“Alright!” they exclaim in their extreme annoyance that has their hands flying up in the air and their tail forming the beginning of spikes along its ridge. “Down!” Aofil makes their presence and emotion ripple with their intent through their aura, but it does nothing against the dog, who sits down playfully as Aofil approaches with flailing limbs. “No! Off!”

The dog stands up again.

With a disgruntled grunt Aofil picks up the dog and places it on the patio below. It looks up with small, beady eyes that shimmer in the orange hue overwhelming all other colors. “No,” Aofil states against the cute eyes.

But it refused.

“No.”

And again.

“No.”

And again.

They sigh.

“Fine.”

And beckons for it to follow them around the patio fence to the spigot. The dog stares with a look somewhere between wondering what it is that Aofil is doing and absently critiquing that whatever they’re doing they’re doing it wrong. Aofil in turn shoots a short burst of water at its feet as a warning to remind it who it is wearing the pants here.

Even if not physically due to Aofett and Muffil having done their first batch of laundry today. If Aofil was the adult they love to triumph over their children about they’d take responsibility over not being clear that they meant that they wanted their laundry to smell like Golden Flowers due to the scented detergent and not the Golden Flower tea.

To think that them being a proper parent and hiding the detergent out of child’s reach would come back to haunt them in the form of pants dripping like Golden Flower teabags from the laundry machine.

And even worse, almost the same size as well!

“But tea needs a high temperature.”

“You’ve said that a thousand times!”

Aofil almost broke the bridge of their nose with how hard they pinched it. Their tail also almost burst through their belly-button with how hard it reversed into them. How were they supposed to scold if it was their own damn fault? Their children were right to boot! 

But. Not. In. The. Damn. Laundry!

Oh how Aunt Toriel’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect as she called just afterwards suggesting if she could take the children out to the park so that Aofil could cook the Sunday dinner in peace. Her insisting on saying “Laundeary me, Aofil.” as they explained their predicament. However, Aofil made sure to relay that Auntie Toriel promised the two spiderlings Nice Cream, so they got the last laugh.

Well, not technically. 

Undyne had that.

And still has, judging by the sound through the open window on her and Alphys’ second floor. Howling hoarsely still even three hours after she saw Aofil in one of Muffet’s novelty aprons. Could also be the MewMew dress underneath the apron that was the only thing not too small and also not dripping of Golden Flower tea that Aofil could find in the house. Why they had an easier time finding that dress rather than some other pants is beyond them, but by golly do they look good in it!

And they’ll repeat that statement until they’ve equated the amount of smug Mettaton had when he bought it for Aofil to have at a costume party with the amount of spite they’ve built up taking that faux compliment and running with it till the end of the Surface!

Too bad they’ll be panting up once the guests start to arrive. With Muffet’s mom visiting too and staying the night she wants to wear her old red dress and for Aofil to be dressed as human as possible. That involves pants the last time Aofil checked.

Which was yesterday.

And speaking of panting.

“Guess it cooled you up a bit too,” Aofil said to the now clean dog which fur was hanging heavily off its small body. “Let me just back up a step before you-” The white fur made heavy by water was fluffed up into a large ball as the dog shook its entire body with alarming speed, Aofil’s lips stung as the drops flung were almost like snow in a blizzard.

“Alright.” They blew off the pain from their lips in a mild raspberry. “Guess you’re not a normal dog, ain’t ya?” With a rather hesitant hand they patted down the fur back onto the dog’s body rather than the strands standing straight up. It could fly away by the faintest gust, and Aofil wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Sans wasn’t about to just shortcut for an invented reasons by and for himself only. 

“Been a while since we met before,” Aofil started up while knowing full well that they weren’t about to get a conversation out of it. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

The panting resumed from the bouncing dog as it followed Aofil’s tail back onto the patio. 

“Heard you did something last autumn. Helped some new kids find their way to Toriel’s school?” With a confident sweep of their tail Aofil cleared the remained of the table into the large trashcan they had set up before they began cooking. “You do like to show up on your own accord more than anything. Quite the legend around here.” Something was bound to happen, as it always did, and by now they’ve learned to be prepared for everything to just fall apart in an instant. It’s a calculated loss living among magical monsters. When it comes to practicalities and such they’re still stuck in their own ways of thinking of stuff as an extension of themselves. A magical view of the world. If they’re not broken inside in heart and soul about it, then the things around them aren’t. 

A fantastic way of thinking most of the time.

Except when it clashes with Aofil’s human ways of seeing things.

Like locked doors.

And houses that should be firmly in the ground and not have legs.

Or jeans and pants that should be washed with detergent scented with Golden Flower and not Golden Flower tea.

Although knowing themselves they’ll probably come around to accepting that and even starting to buy larger sizes just to be able to wash them in Golden Flower tea in the future.

Aofil blames their tail for that, casting a furrowed stare at its tip peeking over their shoulder.

And the small dog hanging on with its mouth.

It should hurt.

But it doesn’t.

Still. “Could you let go, please?” Aofil would rather have their tail for themselves if that’s fine with the dog?

To Aofil’s parallel surprise and relief the dog drops off and flutters down to the ground not too different to what a Temmie would. Zigzagging mechanically instead of falling like something obeying the natural laws. More indication that the dog is a monster of sorts, if anything. 

A swift knee on the underside of the camping table later and it returns to an at least more-flat-than-round surface for Aofil to yet again begin again with their cooking. This time around they have an assistant to help. They quirk an eyebrow to the dog jumping up on the table again, albeit courteously on the edge of it so that it’s on the stable legs. Softer this time too. Maybe because it already has Aofil’s attention? Or maybe it is because of Aofil’s attention that it doesn’t do it?

Whatever the case, Aofil props up the middle of their camping table with a folded sun-chair as an extra weight distributor. Third time is gonna be the charm with their cooking, and they’re gonna make their damnedest sure about it!

“I do have your help with this, don’t I?” Aofil not really asks as they do declare with an intimidating tug on their frilly collar. It brings out the color on their cheek if it’s persuaded to stand up rather than lie flat. “Good,” they also declare despite no answer from the dog despite a curious tilt of its small head. “Then I’ll tell you what I’m cooking up.”

Cooking up without the help of their utensils as well. Not employing their sentience, that is. They still need to use tools after all. Can’t do it all by hand.

Like touching snails with their bare hands, for instance.

Never in a hundred years.

Or in the hundred years after those!

“Right!” the dress, and novelty apron, wearing human sings while turning left as they enter their kitchen through their patio door. “Soulgosbord, third iteration!” Their step is halted by their tail being held back by something. Aofil looks underneath their lifted arm to see the dog’s small paw holding their magical tail in place with a rather disapproving scowl on its face. With an equally disapproving look back Aofil dissipates the tip of their tail and reforms it once it is free. “If it’s more creative than the previous Monster King’s naming scheme which permeates this entire city then by golly is it good enough for Sunday dinner,” they defend not angrily. Not angrily at all.

Miffed?

Yeah, miffed. That works.

Angrily miffed.

Perfect.

Their head shoots up over the top of their fridge door as a thought strikes them different from the large number which is the money they’ve just gone about throwing into the trash today. Like Undyne did many, many years ago, Aofil leans their arm on top on the fridge door and looks to the side. “Not really that Asriel’s made any effort in moving past that. Like father like son in that case. Not that I harbor any regisnide against the two for that.” They shrug. “As long as the two grow their Golden Flowers and give me free jars of marmalade and bags of tea they can call it ‘Expensive-Yellow Yummy Plant Jelly’ and ‘Tasty Hot Water That’s Also Expensive-Yellow’ for all I care.”

Wait!

“You keep quiet about those names to both Asriel and Asgore, right?” Aofil gotta make sure they have the dog’s word on this otherwise there is a risk that those names will be adopted. They get a nod from the dog as it licks its nose with its petite tongue.

Good enough.

It takes a couple of trips with the ingredients before Aofil remembers to also bring out a chair for the dog to use if it is to help them. Aofil’s not sure exactly how yet, but they’ll figure something out.

Could just be lending Aofil its ears?

That fine.

“The thing about this Soulgosbord,” they begin as they slide a can of pineapples from one side of the table with their hand and a can of snails from the other side with their tail. “I had the idea a while ago, and it took me a while before I actually figured out exactly what for who.” Holding a knife in their hand to get the correct answer from the dog they lean in with a whisper towards it. “You’ll keep quiet about it taking a while for me to figure out dishes for my closest friends and family, won’t you?” The implication is lost upon the dog, who only licks Aofil’s cheek where some snail juice has dried from their first attempt opening the can up like it was any other can.

Good enough again.

“So to begin with for Toriel I’m doing an upside-down pineapple cake with snails.” Aofil quells a gag as the snail juice mixes and separates with the pineapple. They breathe it out over their shoulder, and breathe in as well so that it won’t return. Why they then decide to continue talking so that they have to breathe in the snail fumes even more they’ll have to figure out later. “Snails because it’s Toriel, of course. While everyone else would argue that you go into the forest in autumn with a basket hanging from the bend of your arm to pick mushrooms, she puts on those rubber boots to go hunt snails. The pineapples are there mostly because when you eat them it tickles the same way her fur does when she pecks you on your cheeks.”

To answer the question that hangs in the air more heavily than a rock, Aofil raises their eyebrows as they roll their eyes. “No, not a cinnamon or butterscotch pie. That’s her shtick.” They point over the unfazed dog with their knife towards the Dreemurr house at the end of the street. “It doesn’t work baking it in a human oven. It needs her magical fire to get the crust the way it should be. Also I need to keep the recipe away from Muffet. If she begins experimenting with cinnamon my lungs are gonna fail within the week.” They quirk a smile. “I’m not worried though about her future attempts at persuading me. I’ve got two spiderlings to prove that there isn’t anything she can do to make me give up the recipe.”

The petite tongue retracts as the dog’s lips thin into a bewildered scowl.

“I’m kidding.”

Wrong words in this context.

“I’m joking.”

There, better.

“So, yeah, upside-down pineapple cake with snails for Toriel. Made and to be eaten with all the tender care she’s shown me over the years. Her motherly strokes over my cheeks and the proud smile that reminds me that I can always come home.” Aofil scoffs a snicker through their nose. “Sometimes I’m a bit jealous when the schoolchildren accidentally call her their mom. Aunt Toriel is the closest I can call her, and that’s only when I’m talking with my kids about her.”

The dog puffs its head underneath Aofil’s head for comfort, and also to let another lick of the snail juice dropping from the table’s lip. Aofil’s gonna ignore the latter part though, and give the dog a scratch behind its ear. “Thanks, little buddy.” 

Its tail waggles happily in response. 

Once the first form is filled with its proper ingredients and set aside, and as the table is cleaned of any forlorn drops of snail juice mixed with pineapple that has the white dog’s tongue shooting in and out of its mouth as it tries to decide whether it enjoys the feeling or not, Aofil reaches over for a bag of coconut fibers as well as some flour which Aofil is gonna pay back to their spider with a distracting kiss and massage once she asks where a sizable portion of her baking ingredients have gone. 

“Fluffbuns,” Aofil reveals proudly to the dog. “Cardamon buns with coconut fibers to make them fluffy. You don’t mind standing model for me so that they’re properly fluffed up, do you?” It curiously sniffs the bag for a bit before concluding...something. 

Aofil doesn’t know. They don’t speak dog. The yap it makes sounds happy enough though, so they’re gonna assume that they have the go-ahead. “It’s really just that. Just a bun with some coconut fiber on it. It’s like Asgore in the way that beneath the rather intimidating exterior is a soft core of sweet and comfort.” Aofil hesitates having said ‘intimidating’. What other word could work though? Imposing? Perhaps? It sounds a bit too much like he’s putting on a facade rather than the facade being put on him from the ones around him. 

He’s the biggest softie inside the most hard-looking of shells. If he looks, talks, acts, build cities, negotiates, and is a king, then he should be a king, right? Not necessarily with him, actually. He was the ideal of how Aofil imagined a king would be before they met the monsters, and since ideals never exist in the real world then Aofil never saw Asgore as king.

Even with the crown and his royal armor fitted so perfectly on him Aofil never saw him as King Asgore.

Just Asgore.

That’s who he is.

He wasn’t a king because a king is a title. Something that can be taken away, as it has from him. Well, willingly given away with swelled tears larger than his heart swelled just as much with pride and hope passing the crown over to his son. Still, even then Asgore was still Asgore. There was no title needed for him to be recognized as who he was. What he was stemmed from who he was, not the other way around.

Still is to boot. A family man who once had an entire Underground as his children. Shoulders made strong so that Aofett and Muffil can ride them and hang off his horns as they help him tend to his garden without it bothering him in the slightest.

“Could you turn on your side a bit?” Aofil spins their dough-encrusted finger to show the dog what they mean. With a waggling tail and panting tongue it does so, giving Aofil a reference to use for the coconut fibers. 

Fluff enough to match a king with a superfluous title!

Aofil places the tray next to the pineapple-snail cake where it belongs after pushing away some cans of tomato sauce and pink glazing. The dog casts a worried look upon the human, who smiles mischievously back. “Yup,” they answer the burning question lit ablaze upon the dog’s face contorting in dismay. “These are for the next one.”

An arrangement of tomato sauce, glazing, salt, milk, and ice is put upon the table, furthering the worrying from the dog. Aofil throws out their arms over their display of too-varied ingredients. “Tomato ice cream. To be glazed with MewMew from season one!”

Their tail catches the dog jumping off the chair in a hurry, lifting it back as its legs flail underneath it without effect. A conflicted huff escapes it as it is placed back where it jumped off from.

“Yeah, I know, season two is better,” sighs Aofil while they spin a wooden ladle between their monster fingers. “But Undyne is Undyne, as you can hear.” They point it over to the top of the window of the neighboring house still howling with laughter. “It’s actually not bad. It sounds, looks, and acts like something you’d stay clear from if you saw it on a sign from across the street. Once you take the first step though the respect will be mirrored back with added intensity so much so that her widened smile blinds you.”

The dog cocks its head up against Aofil, who winks back.

“Yup, I was talking about Undyne, not the ice cream. That’s how similar it is to her. I should know, I ran from her for my life the first time I saw her.” Aofil raises a playful eyebrow. “Although you kinda saw her as ice cream back then, didn’t you? With the way you threw yourself at her face and began licking it like it would melt away if you didn’t?”

The dog doesn’t seem to remember.

Oh well.

“Scary from a distance, but if you brave to get closer you’ll find the most sweetest of monsters who’s dedication lies with the ones around her. Lifting them up both in soul and literally when she feels like it. Captain, my captain. Put me down, captain, I’m not the barbell.” Aofil chuckles to themselves. “Then that’s your fault for not training properly,” they mimic with all the love in the world. “Ngahahaha!”

With a friendly paw another can of tomato sauce is pushed across the table, albeit not with a not of finesse as it plows through a few other cans and bags to be used later. One bag of jellied hearts tips over the lip of the camping table.

As much pleased smug it would bring Aofil to see Mettaton’s face smash against the cement they still need the hearts for later, and they put their tail in the way just before the bag of candy hits the floor. They let it sink into their tail so that they can just angle it up and pluck the bag out of it. “I’ll be using that can of tomato sauce later when I get to Papyrus’ dish,” Aofil informs the dog happy that it could help. “But thanks. Could you reach for that bottle of soup base? We’ll be doing some Mecha Noodles for Alphys next.”

‘A tart yet savory base which can be served either hot or cold. Use as soup or with noodles. Works best with thin noodles.’

Yeah well whatever the base says works best for it isn’t really what Aofil’s found out throughout the years. “Not really boasting itself, is it?” Aofil bounces the bottle in their hand, turning it away from the front sticker that more undersells the product than anything. “No real confidence in it despite being packed full of taste and positively surprising underneath its rather bland and nervous exterior.”

The dog rolls its small eyes like a two dots of pepper amid a wide lake of semolina porridge.

“Can’t slip that past ya’ twice, can I?” chuckles Aofil as they pour the soup base into the pot. Two parts water to one part soup base. With the appetites about to arrive Aofil just lets the entire bottle empty itself. “Yup, Alphys.” They hand the empty bottle over to a small force of spiders which carries it over the table, followed closely by the white dog’s ever so curious nose. “A shell that only Undyne can break through, yet with skin so thin that paper is equivalent to armor. I’d make a joke about how the soup is based on fish, but even I have grown tired of that.”

The simmering soup steals the dog’s attention away from the scurrying spiders. It puts its front-paws up on the rim of the pot and lifts its head up. Aofil offers it some soup from another spoon, but it’s content with just smelling.

“Was a good day when she finally decided to get rid of that damn metal cabinet in the basement. While you can be there and support someone through their hardships, it’s ultimately their own choice if they want to accept the help or not, and even then you have to build up to them taking in the help and letting it germinate.”

The crack of the plastic packaging holding in the Mecha Noodles has broken strands shooting up in the air like fireworks. While Aofil’s busy looking up in thought, the dog laps up some of the pieces closest to it. The crunch is loud. “Actually,” Aofil absentmindedly pours the noodles into the roaring boil, “Flowey might’ve taken a few cues from Alphys when it comes to his worldview. Perhaps he saw himself in how she paced back and forth in dread, and became angry with her when she didn’t have the excuse of being an emotionless flower? Some of that must’ve carried over to Asriel when he came back.” They end up flailing an empty packet for a few seconds. “Could’ve been the catalyst for the two of them starting to accept the help others were offering. With Alphys seeing Asriel the way she was, and him realizing that his excuse wouldn’t work anymore.”

With their human pinky finger they dip to taste the soup base.

A bit too bitter and tart, they conclude.

But why? They had the same ratio of soup base before but it wasn’t this dark and void-like before. No tears though, as that would make it even saltier, Aofil will just add a bit more water and it’ll be good. “That’s in the past though. Like I said, she threw out that metal cabinet of hers she saved from the True Lad. Along with it was her old way of thinking. Alphys, the Royal Scientist no more. Alphys, the Anime Referencing School Teacher instead!”

Just rings better, doesn’t it?

And now to put a lid on it for the last time, and a jaunty whistle later which rises in crescendo as the large pot filled with soup and noodles slides over to stay with the previous trays Aofil begins with the next.

“Apple based spaghetti sauce for Papyrus.”

From the dog emerges a tired raspberry which Aofil is quick to catch.

“Yes, this time I’m doing his own specialty,” they admit with a shrug of both their shoulders and their tail. With one of the apples in hand they point to the dog’s unamused face. “However, I’m giving it a human touch. That should be enough to differ. I don’t know yet what this human touch is gonna be, but it should be enough. It’s gonna be enough with me just mentioning it and they’ll agree.”

Aofil offers a slice of the green apple to the dog, who chews it down without further comment.

“Pap’s recipe is also not something I can hold ransom to get more children like with Toriel’s.”

The chewing stops.

“I’m still joking.”

And begins slowly again. Very slowly. Suspiciously slowly. 

It has Aofil doubting their own joke for a moment…

Were they really joking?

Two’s well enough, right? Any more would just be… Just be too many? Aofil’s arms are already full already. If they could conjure another arm then maybe? 

Perhaps they should run it by Papyrus. He usually brings a perspective to things Aofil never considered. Hell, he was the one that first had Aofil seriously consider Aofett and Muffil to begin with. “IT WOULD BE MORE FOR YOU TO SHOW THAT YOU LOVE MUFFET, AOFIL!” he advised when Aofil first began joking about it. You can never tell if it flies straight over him or if he sees through it instantly, and that has one pausing for thought. Sometimes that’s enough to turn a joke into actual consideration. “CAN’T BE MORE MONSTER THAN BEING A PARENT TO ONE!” His chin drowned inside his mitten as he heard his own words. “DOES THAT MEAN THAT I’LL BE MORE HUMAN THAN YOU?”

Well that’s to be proven today with Aofil’s human touch to Papyrus’ spaghetti sauce! There’s a different acidity to human preparation of apples than there is monster preparation. Conjured knives, be it miniature spears of sharp bones, don’t have the slight galvanization effect that steel knives bring. Porcelain ones hold tastes from their previous endeavors so those also bring just the slightest change. 

Had Aofil known fire magic they’d be experimenting with human preparation and monster cooking, but alas, and alas for the better. They have their tail, and that’s enough.

Will see later if two kids are enough for them.

It takes a couple of stirs before Aofil gets an approving nod from the dog regarding the taste of the apple sauce. Before they scoot it over to the rest of the pots and pans they prop up another chair underneath. They’ve managed longer now than previously, so they’re not to be greedy and drop it all at the last second.

After Papyrus’ sauce comes Sans’ ketchup which is gonna get the same result whether it’s purchased or made at home. Aofil’s gonna be nice and spare him the need to thank and feel indebted to Aofil being nice and offering up their time for him, so a bottle of normal ketchup will be his part of the Soulgosbord. It’ll be perfect next to the Mettaton-shaped-and-painted cookie box which is as much Mettaton per weight that Aofil could find. Box, cookies, toy, pamphlet, and lastly number to call in and praise Mettaton, all in one purchase? What a deal!

On clearance too which made Aofil feel all fuzzy inside. Sometimes there is justice in the world.

MK’s gonna get his from Undyne. Whatever she has planned Aofil’s not sure, but they hazard a guess that it might contain traces of laughter. He’d get his forlorn grump taking over his face had Aofil cooked something up. Not that he’d be disapproving of it. On the contrary, he loves it! However, Aofil can tell that slight shift in his aura. Not wrong, just not right according to him. Just better to ask Undyne so that everyone’s happy.

Gives Aofil a bit more time to get to the two most difficult ones.

Third technically due to the amount of massaging and cooing they’ll have to do to appease Muffet and move her mind away from all the baking ingredients missing, but for some strange reason Aofil doesn’t feel that massaging each of their spider love’s six shoulder as something negative. Not the chitter-infused sigh huffed in pleasure that she does as they hit that one spot she couldn’t either. Nor how her fangs dig so deep into her chin that Aofil could get lost inside the depths of her dimples.

Very strange reason indeed. 

“Ahuhuhu~” they whisper to themselves.

Now, what to make for a Monster King? A monster from royal to flower to royal again? Aofil briefly humored the thought of finding that one chocolate bar that Chara used to like. Extremely briefly. They shook their head before the thought had formed properly. No, not Chara. That’s not for Aofil to bring up again. 

If anything that would be on Frisk.

But what to make instead? For a Monster King so used to high dining and tastes that encompass the world? Chefs that have trained for years to assume the privilege of feeding a king ever so humble in his position and praising even the red carpet rolled for him to walk on?

Aofil slams a deep oven pan lubed up with butter onto the table followed loudly behind by a bag of flour and a jug of milk. “Ovencake!” they exclaim. “Like a pancake, but made in the oven. When you’re used to complexity that forces you to be aware of every single bite you take lest you miss out on a vital angle the spices bring, a simple dish will come across as overwhelming in how straightforward it lays itself on the tongue.”

The dog’s ears pique with interest.

“Or at least, that’s what I hope it’ll come across as,” admits Aofil while they anxiously tap on the jug with their fingers. “Remind him that even though he’s a king, that he’s also just a kid in my eyes. The same troubled teenager that sat with me on the beach’s rim asking how he could live up to dying.” They turn the lid open with a focused twist. “And now he’s a king.” The milk splashes against the oven form as they absently pour. “I really have trouble seeing royalty as royalty, don’t I? Maybe because we’ve been through so much together? We share souls, could be that? Or maybe it is that he’s such a good king that he even eclipses Asgore with how naturally he fits the role?”

The bag of flour creates a mound in the middle of the form which Aofil begins whisking out and incorporating with the milk. “It’s gonna be good seeing him again. He can always come home, that he knows. We don’t want him home though.”

Before the dog can react Aofil raises the tip of their tail to hush.

“Because we want him out there in the world. To experience everything there is so that he can become everything his potential affords him to. Those coffers are overflowing. He could travel the world a thousand times over and his potential would still be enough to take out several mortgages.” Aofil chuckles through their nose, which throws up a small handful of flour into their face. They wipe it away. “And when he do wants to come home we gotta make sure he’s welcomed back not as a Monster King, but just as someone normal. Same with the ovencake, I suppose. With all the time he spends among the clouds and basking in the golden age he’s made flourish we gotta make sure there are pillows and sunglasses for when he lands. Even kings need to relax and to be reminded of home.”

The ovencake mixture sloshes against the heightened rim barely holding it from spilling over as Aofil carefully lifts the form over to where it belongs among its other cousins. No different from the other, it is.

Just as planned.

“You know what’s the most annoying thing with this is?” asks Aofil with both their hands sweeping over the food they’ve prepared. “I’m done. I’ve done all I set out to do.” They clench their fists. “Because Frisk said that I didn’t have to do anything for them. They wanted to make something for me instead!” They throw up their clenched fists in the air. “And I couldn’t say no to that!” they scream at their fists. Not angrily though, just defeated. “Dammit, Frisk,” they curse in a way that only a host denied being overly courteous can do. “With MK I can look it over, but with you? Never in my life!” Their fists come down towards the table, but stop just before touching the wood. Oh how much they want to punch. They’re out of ingredients though, so it would give Frisk opportunity to make stuff for everyone else too!

And Aofil’s not gonna let them do that.

Oh no!

They’re gonna be the good human.

They’ll make food for themselves so that they can deny Frisk’s cooking and-

Aofil looks to their side feeling a tug on their tail. It’s the dog pulling with a paw. 

It’s shaking its head.

Shaking it very hard.

The crazy from Aofil’s eyes drain, and they slump over cartoonishly as they sigh. “I know...” they admit. “I know.” With their human hand they rub the folds on their forehead. “It’s just… It’s Frisk. Nothing I can do can thank them for what they’ve done. And that’s fine with them. By extension of that it’s fine with me too!” Again they sigh through their lips loosened in annoyance over having to be niced towards. “Maybe I’ll just accept it as is and somehow reality will bend and it’ll be made by me instead if I just think hard enough about it? Be real determined about it?”

Another tug from the dog.

“Yes, yes!” Aofil gives up. No idea trying to argue with the human that knows more about Aofil’s soul than they do having healed it so much. Frisk has been coy with Aofett and Muffil asking for some embarrassing human memories that Aofil has, so they shouldn’t be tempting fate lest it comes back to bite them. “I’ll be the bigger human and graciously accept Frisk wanting to do something nice as thanks for me offering up an entire day of cooking.”

The dog seems happy with that.

“That day isn’t over though.”

The dog seems confused with that.

“I’ve got one more guest now, don’t I?”

Still confused.

“Come on now,” giggles Aofil as they give the dog a scratch behind its ear. “If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here. I gotta at least make a snack for you as thanks. I don’t have any legendary artifacts around, but Muffet has some red covering for her pralines that I could make a ball out of. Sounds good?”

The dog leans into the furred hand with tongue out and tail waggling.

“Sounds good.”

But before the dog can jump down to head into the kitchen Aofil catches it one more time. They turn it around so that they come face to face with it.

“First move that child car that you stole from a supermarket trolley back here behind the shed. I know how keen you are on just disappearing whenever you want.”

The dog absorbed the instructions.

And Aofil was left empty-handed.

“Dammit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 4th (+ one day) Undertale anniversary! Despite my raging cold I managed to determine myself enough to get this out only one day late!
> 
> Here's to another, more healthy, year to come!
> 
> I am well deep into my next project, but can again not say exactly when it's gonna see the light of day. It won't be this year, that much I can say. However, with the teasing Toby's done I'm sure there'll be fics around until that. Hope you'll still be around until it drops!


End file.
